In General
by walked-into-the-sky
Summary: The ramblings of a sexually confused teenage boy. Also, cosmopolitans. FinnKurt.


Um, like, I don't know.

I DO know that this pairing will never be canon and, look, I like Finchel, okay? I just can't handle it when I see an obviously gay boy fawning over a jock. Because, like, they'd be totally cute together. Also, I haven't slept in 37 hours and I've had a butt load of sugar so, seriously, forgive me this, okay? I don't know if I'll ever write Glee again, but I don't know if I _won't_ either, so yeah.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Or Justin Verlander. Or Justin Timberlake. Or Nicole Kidman a la Moulin Rouge.

Title: In General

Summary: The ramblings of a sexually confused teenage boy. Also, cosmopolitans. FinnKurt, Slash.

—Begin—

Finn walks into Kurt's bedroom looking for his laundry and finds the other boy naked.

Like, butt naked. As in, no clothes on. Just—_butt_. Right there. In front of him. Completely uncovered. And—well, he'd been bent over originally, but now he's standing and looking at him and his eyes look like they're going to fall out of his head.

Also: oh god, he's getting a frontal view now.

"Uh," Finn says, because usually talking in these sorts of situations is a good idea. What, with the _crush_ still looming between them and the ever present shadow of the _f_ word hanging over their heads, there's still this weird tension there and it springs up at the most inopportune moments. Like now. Sort of.

To his credit, Kurt is completely scandalized ("What are you _doing?_ I haven't moisturized, you jerk!") and starts throwing pillows at him and really, the only one who's making this even remotely sexual is, well, Finn himself.

"Uh," he says again and a bottle of body lotion hits his left temple with surprising force.

"Get out!" Kurt's kind of shrieking like a girl now and it would be really, really bad if Burt heard this, wouldn't it? "_!_"

"Gah!" Finn wails, throws his palms against his eyes, and flees up the stairs.

* * *

Later, in the shower:

He sort of masturbates. But no, it isn't to Kurt. Absolutely. Not.

* * *

Mercedes _so _knows. She's been giving him these 'I know you're a pervert so don't you even think of looking at me like we're best friends, jack ass' all week. Even now, as he's getting his backpack out of his locker with Puck, she's glaring at him from a nearby water fountain. Kurt so _would_ tell his best _girl_ friend.

Finn grumbles a little and slams his locker shut. Mercedes flips her hair in a 'you don't scare me, creeper' sort of way.

"Let's do Kurt."

He turns to Puck and screams, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

But then his best friend is staring at him like he's completely lost it and it's kind of like they're in an alternate universe or something.

"Dude, I said let's go to work," Puck absently scrubs the spot his mohawk used to occupy, "What the hell? What'd you think I said?"

"Uh—," there's something wrong with him. Something really, _really_ wrong with him. "Nothing, let's go."

Mercedes stalks him all the way to the parking lot.

* * *

Kurt hasn't looked him in the eye since, well. It's really weird during dinner, especially when his mother has so _obviously_ noticed and Burt's talking about how badly he wants to punch Justin Verlander in the face.

Finn's trying so hard not to think about how awkward this is and he kind of loses focus on _everything else_. Which, in retrospect, is stupid, but he's only a teenage boy and hardly perfect and—whatever, okay?

The point is, he's kind of messing around with the rope stuff on the edge of his mom's favorite rug (because, this is Kurt's house and now they're all living together and it's all about the homey touches, so obviously her favorite rug is in the dining room) and his foot kind of wanders off and nudges someone else's.

He looks up from his meatloaf because he just _knows_ and Kurt's staring at him in that eyes-falling-out-of-head way again.

"I hate the Tigers," Burt says loudly, as if capping off a lecture, and waves his fork in the air. A bit of meatloaf hits his son on the cheek.

And there's nothing sexual about the way Kurt mumbles in outrage, grabs his napkin, and goes to town on his face in an attempt to scour any evidence of the offending food out of existence. But Finn watches it all and there so _is._

_

* * *

_

Mr. Shue goes on this kick about being good _teammates _or whatever and somehow he and Kurt end up locked in the third floor boy's bathroom trying to think up a duet.

And: AWKWARD.

"So—how about Justin?"

For one, crazy second, Finn is convinced Kurt's talking about a boyfriend of his that he, up until now, hadn't known about. Then he catches that 'oh god, he's about to go crazy again' look on the other boy's face and realizes—_oh_, Justin Timberlake.

"Uh," Finn says, because it's the only thing he's capable of articulating around Kurt lately.

"Or not," Kurt mutters, clearly annoyed. This, in turn, prompts annoyance in Finn, because he's not stupid, he's just confused and, seriously, it's all Kurt's fault.

"Elton," he suggests coldly. His almost-roommate shoots him a strange, searching look and Finn suddenly feels like he's been x-rayed. And yeah, he glances away towards the nearest urinal, but only because there's a phone number written on it in suspiciously feminine handwriting and he's been contemplating copying it down since they'd gotten there twenty minutes before.

"You want to sing an Elton John song," Kurt doesn't really ask, he just sort of says it, still staring and his eyes are kind of huge and kind of really brown.

"Yeah," because he has _depth_, duh, "Um, do you know any of them?"

Kurt rolls his eyes and it suddenly occurs to Finn that they're sitting cross legged on a bathroom floor and there's a good seven feet between them. And, more importantly, he's seen the other boy naked and that's just adding to the 'what the fuck'-ness of this situation and seriously, this is the worst. Sexual. Tension. Ever.

"Uh," he says again.

* * *

On the next Saturday, Burt and his mom are off somewhere and Finn is struck with sudden inspiration. He decides, dramatically and with much throwing of clothing, to walk around the house shirtless.

At first it's sort of awesome, because Kurt's house is _so _hot outside of his twisted hormones, so like, yeah. But then it backfires because he goes into the kitchen and Mercedes is there with a lollipop and looking at him like he's a piece of meat, the scum on the bottom of her shoe, or both. Which is kind of impressive, but he's too distracted and horrified to notice.

Then Kurt comes up the basement stairs wearing this really, _really _tight red t shirt and, probably because he hasn't noticed Finn yet, strikes a pose a la Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge.

"Does this make me look fat?" he asks and Mercedes gives him a quick once over.

"Nope," she grins wickedly around the lollipop, "Finn, what do you think?"

Kurt blinks at her, turns to him and lets out this weird little squeak.

And Finn kind of can't move because he's never had a boner like this before. Also, red is _so_ Kurt's color. So he sort of stares awkwardly and then his face is heating up and Mercedes laughs, grabs Kurt's slack jaw and pushes the lollipop between his lips.

"I'm going to rent a sappy chick flick," she announces and disappears down the stairs.

"I hate sappy chick flicks," Kurt mutters.

* * *

Later in the shower:

Finn sort of masturbates. It's definitely to Kurt.

* * *

At dinner on Sunday Finn sticks his right foot into the crutch of Kurt's left knee.

The smaller boy drops his spoonful of peas and gives him this wide-eyed-what-are-you-_doing?_ look. Burt notices and glances between them suspiciously, but Finn doesn't really care. Because, yeah, he kind of likes his possible future step brother and yeah, he's okay that.

"How about those Indians?" he says to distract his possible future step father.

Kurt, as if sensing a reprieve, slouches and busies himself with his pork. Finn gives him about ten seconds and then strokes his calf.

Kurt blushes.

* * *

It's midnight when Finn decides that they're both being wimps and they should just _do it _already. Then he wanders down the basement stairs and finds Kurt lounging on his bed and nose first in what appears to be a martini glass.

His almost-roommate notices him and raises the reddish drink in his direction.

"Cosmopolitan," he says vaguely.

"Are you drunk?" Finn asks.

Kurt gets up and sashays over, "Nope," he puts the drink down on a strategically placed end table, "Stop molesting my feet at the dinner table. Dad's going to notice."

Finn absently grabs his waist, "Who cares?" He slides his hand to that butt he'd seen earlier and there's this little squeak.

Big, brown eyes stare up at him.

"I swear, Finn Hudson, if you're fucking with me, I'm going to set Mercedes on you and she has this brilliant torture plan and—"

And yeah, Finn gets tired of the rambling and kisses Kurt. But it's the most affectionate way to shut someone up, so whatever.

—End—

Uh, yeah, I seriously don't know. Just…review, okay? Thanks.


End file.
